


ain't born typical

by unveils



Series: couldn't get the boy to kill me [2]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Enthusiastic Face-Sitting, M/M, enthusiastic blowjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 02:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11704743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unveils/pseuds/unveils
Summary: “Sweetheart,” He breathes into Jason’s open mouth. “I’m gonna make you see bloody stars.”





	ain't born typical

**Author's Note:**

> for an au i'm doing w/ a friend where jason is an aspiring art student and john is his manic pixie dream goblin boyfriend. maybe one day i'll make this into a series, but for now, here's some self-indulgent porn w/out context.

It’s certainly not the first time they’ve wandered past first base, but it’s the first time Jason’s been so  _ enthusiastic  _ about it. 

John’s expecting some kind of lead up after dinner at Jason’s favorite local diner -- same kind of flavor as the dirty, crooked smiles he keeps getting from across the table, maybe -- but they barely make it to the parking lot before Jason’s pulling John against him, worn leather wrapped in the cologne he wears and the taste of smoke in his mouth. 

“Apartment’s empty tonight,” Is all he says by way of explanation, breath hot where it falls against John’s chin not an inch from his mouth. “Steph’s staying with her girlfriend.” 

And hey, a dimly lit parking lot in the middle of Gotham fucking City isn’t where John Constantine will start looking gift horses in the mouth, so he shuts up and follows Jason home. 

They first stop is the kitchen, and John doesn’t even bother to hide the way the way he watches Jason bend to grab beers from the fridge. His mouth is still kissed-red under the flickering fluorescents, looking better pulled into a grin here and now than damn near anything else John’s ever seen. 

It’s been a while, but he doesn’t dwell -- takes the beer for something to do with his hands, condensation cool between his fingers. Jason bypasses even opening his altogether, a flimsy guise indeed, and it’s John’s turn to grin, leaning back against the counter to accompany the way Jason moves to settle a thigh between his legs. It’s warm, familiar -- thick with tension but different than the parking lot, something comfortable. 

“See something you like?” Jason murmurs, teasing, and John takes a sip of his beer. 

“Well, I’m plenty fond of the bedroom, but it seems we’ve bypassed it.”

Jason snorts in kind, reaching to pull the bottle from John’s lips and up to his own. “Don’t really need a bedroom for what I’m thinking. Stick with me, old man, I’m about to blow your mind.” 

There’s little time to think on  _ that _ , but John’s mind makes an attempt, anyway, heat flooding back into his chest from wherever they left it in the parking lot. Jason slips the beer onto the counter behind John and finds his hands, settling them on his hips. John’s a quick learner, doesn’t need to be told twice, pulling Jason in to meet his lips. 

It lacks finesse, all teeth and tongues and some kind of desperate heat that Jason always seem to find. There’s a time and place to pretend he’s a gentleman but this certainly isn’t it, and when John’s hand finds its way underneath the back of Jason’s t-shirt, warm skin against his fingers, Jason laughs against his lips, a low, appreciative kind of sound that earns him a press of teeth. 

It doesn’t take long -- John’s half hard against the hot press of Jason’s thigh in a frankly impressive amount of time. He’s far too old to be getting off fumbling against someone like a teenager, no matter what his body has to say about it, but Jason saves him the trouble of dwelling, fingers slipping quick on the button of John’s pants. 

Jason sinks to his knees easily -- if there’s anything uncomfortable about kneeling on tile, he doesn’t show it, which is a trait John likes in just about anyone. His lips are already redder than before, slick with the way he keeps swiping his tongue over them, and John’s so fucked, so endeared, so hot. His breath hitches when Jason swallows him down, no preamble, all enthusiasm. It’s been a goddamn while and this time, John does dwell -- the last ponce he’d shacked up with was hardly enthusiastic about sucking him off, no grace or worthwhile technique in sight, but Jason looks almost  _ pleased  _ about it. It’s clear he’s comfortable, sliding down until John can  _ feel  _ his fucking throat fluttering around him, but every time he looks down, Jason’s ready to meet his eyes, hungry and heavy and definitely enjoying himself,  _ fuck _ \--

John’s so fucked. 

Jason directs his hands into his hair and stills with his mouth closed around the head, glancing up at John with a question in his eyes. John tests a theory, tugging gentle on a fist full of Jason’s hair and Jason groans for it, vibrations shaking all the way through John. 

“Yeah?” His voice sounds ragged to his own ears, but Jason just hums in reply, and John takes that as good an agreement as any. He guides Jason down onto him, gentle at first and then harder when Jason digs fingernails into his hip. There’s an etiquette here, John knows, that he’s certainly fucked up before, but every time he thrusts his hips up, driving into Jason’s mouth, he’s there to grin around John, wet and hot and eyes a little wild. 

John lets his head tip back, swallowing down the string of incoherent compliments that threaten to spill. “Not gonna last much longer like that, love.” 

He wills his fingers not to tighten in Jason’s hair, but Jason pushes down anyway, down until his nose meets the patch of hair at the base of John’s dick. It’s dirty enough to be what John needs, all he has, and he moans for it, ragged, cradling Jason’s head between his hands as he comes. 

Jason looks fucking wrecked when he finally pulls off of John, grinning wide and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. John’s brain makes a  _ valiant  _ attempt at connecting the spark of arousal it garners to a physical response, but he’s done, beyond done, and Jason’s getting to his feet again. 

John’s beyond pretenses at this point, one orgasm under his belt, reaching down to palm at Jason’s dick in his jeans.

“Sweetheart,” He breathes into Jason’s open mouth. “I’m gonna make you see bloody stars.”

 

\--

  
  


They make it to the bedroom eventually. 

It’s easy enough to realize what he wants -- Jason’s thighs are a goddamn work of nature, and say whatever else you will about him, but John’s always been good with his fingers. 

Jason winds up riding John’s face until he comes, three fingers and a tongue up his ass, whining litanies that John thinks might make a hellspawn blush. 

In the afterglow, Jason lights two cigarettes. 


End file.
